Holy Mother of  Okay, Wait
by Roga
Summary: “So let me get this straight. You think you’ve been a bad Jew, so now, instead of saying Jesus or Mary, you’re using Old Testament characters as epithets?” Written for the daysofawesome Jewish Character Ficathon.


"Jeremiah on a pogo stick!"

The sharp cry rose faintly from some far off corner of the bullpen. In their office, Casey looked up from his monitor. "Did you hear that?"

Dan's groaned deeply, and his head hit his desk with a thud. "It's Jeremy and his new cursing diet again," he said, voice muffled, and added a belated, "ow."

"Cursing diet?" Casey asked.

Dan sighed, face still flat against his mouse pad. "Jeremy feels—"

"Caleb Ben tap-dancing Jephunneh!" came a cry.

"—Jeremy feels that he's lost touch with his faith and that he has been Natalized, which is possibly Jeremy-talk for baptized, and that because of him the Pats are going to lose."

Casey considered this. "He always was a model of modesty."

"Also, there was something about a pig."

Casey blinked. "This bears, I think, further investigation."

Dan raised a hand to wave him away. "Go forth, investigate. So long as I don't have to hear about it anymore."

* * *

"Jeremy. Casey has something he wants to ask you."

In the editing room, Jeremy had been thoroughly absorbed in the game he was watching, but now turned to look at them both over his shoulder. "And _you're_ here because?"

Dan crossed his arms. "Because apparently 'as long as I don't have to hear about it' actually means 'of course I'd love to be you ambassador to Judaism and the nutjob that is Jeremy Goodwin'."

"Thanks, Dan, I'm flattered," Jeremy said dryly, and then his attention caught on a beautifully executed pass on the TV and he blurted, "Son of a _Rahab_."

"Okay, that, that right there," Casey pointed out. "Is what we're here about. That was kinda creepy."

Dan sighed. "Jeremy, explain."

"There's nothing to explain," Jeremy said, eyes still on the screen. "I have simply decided that I need to make amends. I've been a bad, bad Jew."

Casey muttered to Dan, "Am I the only one to whom that sounds like a line from a very twisted—"

"No," Dan stated. "You're not."

"Well, it's true," Jeremy said mournfully. "I ate a pig last night."

"An entire pig?" Casey asked.

"This is why the Democrats didn't win last time. I ate a pig then too."

"You have a mental list of all the times you ate non-kosher?"

"Yes, except for the mental bit."

Dan was making pained _get me out of here_ expressions, and just to emphasize his distress, he was pointing at Jeremy and twirling a finger by his ear, the international sign for cookoo.

Casey ignored him. "So let me get this straight. You think you've been a bad Jew, so now, instead of saying Jesus or Mary, you're using Old Testament characters as epithets?"

"Only until my Jewish karma's back on track," Jeremy replied reasonably.

Casey spread his hands. "You realize this makes no sense."

"You know what, I love Natalie," Jeremy said, turning back to Casey, "but if a man want his team and his party to win, he's gotta keep in touch with his roots. With his faith. That's the way the world spins. And hey, if I'm going to blaspheme, I'm going to use my own damn religion. Oh, damn, I said damn. Damn again." Jeremy paused. "_Crap._"

"Okay, see, 'damn' isn't even Christian," Casey pointed out.

"It's the connotation," Dan said tiredly, his tone conveying _I've gone there and lost so don't even try, oh and by the way_ get me out of here.

"You can go, Dan," Casey said benevolently. Before he could blink Dan had already disappeared.

Casey settled down in a chair next to Jeremy. "So, what are we watching?"

"Patriots versus Chargers."

"You do know that game was on three days ago."

Jeremy gave him a _do you think I'm stupid?_ look. "I'm just watching it for practice. You don't think exclaiming things like 'Oh Messiah who has not yet arrived' comes naturally, do you?"

Casey stared back. "There's something very wrong with you, you know," he said gravely.

"If it helps you, I do," Jeremy said, and turned the volume up.

* * *

When Casey returned to the office, Dan was bouncing a tennis ball against the wall. "Have fun watching the game?" Dan asked.

Casey took a water bottle from the fridge. "I left when he started saying 'Holy Barbara'. I didn't even know there was a Barbara in the bible."

"There isn't," Dan said flatly.

"Then who—oh." Casey grinned, and took a sip of water. "You know, it's not that bad, once you get used to it. 'Christ on a cracker' has those nice, crisp C's, sure, but Jeremy's way has its merit."

Dan's eyes snapped to Casey. "Casey, don't. Please."

"I'm just sayin'—"

"You really don't have to say anything," Dan assured him a little desperately, "Really. Just shut up and look pretty."

"I'm just _saying_, this could be the start of a trend. I think you should work it into your script tonight."

"The network will censor it."

"I'll talk to Dana."

"Casey."

"Dan."

"Oh, for the love of—" Dan threw the ball at Casey.

Casey caught it with a grin. "You were gonna say Seinfeld, weren't you?"

"Stewart," Dan confessed, and shook a fist at the sky. "Damn you, Jeremy Goodwin!"


End file.
